The trickle of water seeping through the cracks of the old stone walls was strangely calming now, although he could still very much remember the time when he had though the sound was maddening.
Then again, he'd had a change of perspective on most things lately. Things that once mattered so, so much, now interested him no more. Maybe that's what being locked in a dungeon cell for the rest of eternity did to a person, he mused.
In fact, he very much intended to find that out for sure. They'd never let him meet the other prisoners, but he was content just waiting, biding his time.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories Part 2
Short StoryMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
